


The Homestretch

by photogiraffe77



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Body Image, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, Hurt and comfort, Kuroo Is A Good Husband, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Workplace, and so is Daichi, and so is ennoshita, businessman! Daichi, healing together, just me projecting onto fictional characters, sports analyst! Kuroo, sugawara is a good friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29567814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photogiraffe77/pseuds/photogiraffe77
Summary: Daichi has been promoted into a new position at a job he hates. But it’s stable, solid work and pays the bills, keeps them very comfortable. He went to school for accounting, after all - he should be thrilled with the promotion. His husband, Kuroo, is an up-and-coming sports analyst who spends a lot of time on the road covering a huge variety of events. It’s his dream job, but because he hasn’t made his ‘big break’, it doesn’t pay very well, especially with travel expenses. He’s a freelancer waiting for the right contract offer. Daichi insists that it’s okay, he can be the breadwinner - no biggie.But at home, Daichi’s suffering through things he doesn’t want to bog his husband down with, including body issues, anxiety, and an extremely homophobic boss. Raining on his husband’s parade is never something he wants to do - Kuroo’s happiness is put above everything else. Admittedly, this isn’t how Daichi envisioned his future with Kuroo back when they were high school sweethearts, looking ahead with wide, hopeful eyes. He is all about making sacrifices, and he isn’t spiteful about it. He’s just... tired. Will their marriage survive this?
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	The Homestretch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadamPresident2032](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamPresident2032/gifts).



> Hi everyone! I am bringing you this shorter piece (in comparison to my other works) featuring an established relationship KuroDai. Huge disclaimer on this - this fic is about a Daichi who struggles with body image issues. The Daichi that you see here is me. Or well, the me I used to be. The me I still am sometimes, if I'm being honest. His internal monologue and the way he sees himself, I've been there. This fic isn't entirely written out, not yet, but it is mapped out and should come out to four chapters. This first one is heavier, and I promise that things get lighter as they go.
> 
> **PLEASE** be mindful of the tags before moving through this fic and be sure to take care of yourself. I love you all!

The clock on the wall and the numbers in the right-hand corner of Daichi’s screen all told the same story: he was still hours away from clocking out and going home. Not that it was surprising, because it really wasn’t. He arrived at work at the same time each morning and then punched his timecard to leave way past the appropriate hour. The burdensome routine came with his shiny new title - Assistant Manager of Accounts Receivable. 

This day, however, was extremely frustrating, because he was hoping to maybe leave before 8 p.m. knowing full well that his spouse’s train would be arriving at the station, and Daichi wanted to be there to greet him, to pick him up, like a good husband. Tetsu had laughed it off on the phone, as was his nature, but Daichi knew better. 

“Don’t you have to be at that station soon?” Ennoshita asked as he strolled past, the strap of his messenger bag sitting high on his shoulder. Daichi didn’t have many friends in the office, and Ennoshita was a bit younger but still, he was a solid presence. They often ate lunch or took coffee breaks together, whenever they were afforded the luxury of leaving their desks. 

The broader brunette looked up and met his coworker’s concerned gaze, his brown eyes seemingly taking note of his exhausted expression. To that, Daichi only gave a soft smile, though he knew for sure it didn’t come across as genuine. It probably appeared exasperated. “Yeah, I won’t be able to pick Tetsu up tonight. Nakamura needs these files on his desk before our conference call tomorrow morning.”

The younger man gave a glance down to the manilla folders spread out over the messy desk. The numbers that were blurred across the spreadsheets were almost illegible at this point in the evening, Daichi’s reading glasses doing little to cut through the fog in his vision. He was so tired, and a stress migraine was drilling into the front of his skull, right between his eyes. There was Tylenol in his desk he would need to remember to take. Had he drunk any water today? 

“Wasn’t Nakamura responsible for those accounts?” A trim, dark eyebrow cocked at that question.

Forever the people pleaser, Daichi waved it off. “It’s alright, he said he needed to get to dinner with his wife, so I’ll take it from here.”

Ennoshita regarded him with a flat, displeased look, lips pressed in a thin line. “And you have a husband you haven’t seen in three weeks, what the fuck? He sees his wife every night.”

“Ennoshita, it’s okay, really.” Daichi wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more: his friend, or himself. It didn’t really matter, though. He couldn’t say ‘no’ to his boss, especially now, after just being promoted. Granted, Nakamura had been openly opposed to his promotion, but upper management made the final call. The chairman, Meian, was a good guy, he just wasn’t around very often, basing most of his duties out of the corporate office in Tokyo. He managed every branch in the region, after all, and Daichi didn’t see himself as worthy of fussing over. “Tetsu understands. I’ll see him when I get home.”

“Do you need me to stay and help?” 

Once again, the older man shook his head. “Nah, thank you though. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning. Come by my desk and we’ll review the annual report prior to our meeting.”

With that, Ennoshita gave a nod and a wave, bidding his friend goodbye. He took quick strides to the hall door, only paying a glance back with a sympathetic smile. It felt like pity, and Daichi hated that more than anything. Well, almost more than he hated his job, but that was a different story.

The office was almost empty now, the last of his co-workers filing out one by one, leaving to catch the evening train to home or the closest izakaya, whichever was more suited for a Wednesday evening. As the overhead lights dimmed and the sun began to set, disappearing in the Kyoto skyline, the only company Daichi had left was the nauseating blue glow coming from his computer screen.

Next to him, his phone chimed, a picture that was taken from what felt like a lifetime ago flashing across the background. Kuroo had one arm curled around Daichi’s chest, a massive hand splayed across his clavicle, pointed chin propped on his broad shoulder. They wore wide smiles on their faces as the ocean sparkled behind them. A single text highlighted the top portion of the screen.

**Tetsu [6:37 p.m.]:** _I think my train is arriving a little early, but I get it if you can’t make it tho. I love you._

*

_ Fuck.  _ Daichi blinked up into the bleak late winter sky, his coat pulled tight around his midsection. It was strange looking at something that wasn’t a device for the first time in over twelve hours, his shift starting at 7:00 a.m. sharp. He had even tried to come in a little early in an attempt to leave on time to meet up with his husband, but alas, that had failed. In retrospect, he should have known better. Truly, he should have. Once Nakamura caught word of Daichi trying to leave on time, he was bound to put his foot down and intervene. 

He let out a little sigh, his warm breath visible in the cold air. All that was left to do now was to walk to the station and catch the train home. Kuroo had offered to come and pick him up, they did have a car together, after all, but Daichi had denied him.  _ Get some rest, I’ll be home when I can,  _ he had texted his spouse back. Nothing would make Daichi feel even guiltier than if Tetsu continued to stretch himself even thinner. Traveling was tiresome, and he deserved a break.

With mechanical movements, Daichi’s feet brought him to the station. It was relatively empty, which was expected, given the late hour. The major commuter traffic was long gone and home, like Daichi should have been. Easily, he found a seat, staring unseeing at an ad hung up inside the car. It was four stops exactly to the station by their shared apartment and he didn’t even need to pay attention to when his station’s name was called. 

Never once did he pull out his phone or scroll through social media or even check for further texts from his husband. He felt like a slave to machines, devices, and should he take it out, he would inevitably wind back up at his email inbox, frantically trying to ‘get ahead’. He never would though, that much had been made perfectly clear. Nakamura was ensuring that and it was becoming all the more evident with each passing day, each impossible task assigned to his workload.

When his stop finally came, he filed back into the night, walking the brisk three blocks it took to arrive at his building. They lived in Osaka, a low-key, nicer neighborhood with narrow streets and cute shops. It was a great choice, and while it put them further away from their original home in Sendai, it was a little quieter and more quaint than the hustle and bustle brought on by Tokyo. They had gotten their fill of the ‘big city’ while in college. 

There should have been a boiling excitement present in his chest when he took the elevator to the eleventh floor, something burning low in his stomach. But there wasn’t. Electricity wasn’t itching at the tips of his fingers. He didn’t bounce on the balls of his feet during his ascent to his apartment, nor did he feel the familiar fluttering sensation light up his nervous system.

Instead, he felt nothing.

Every day that Tetsu was gone, he had longed for him to come home, so excited that his love would finally be returning after an extended hiatus. Talking on the phone or over facetime was fine, and he was grateful they could still hear each other’s voices at the end of the day. However, as the minutes ticked closer, he was filled with dread. It was a strange feeling that he had difficulty explaining or justifying. He loathed admitting that it was because he knew Kuroo would be energetic and happy and Daichi would be… well,  _ this _ . 

Exhausted. 

Drained. 

Run-down. 

“Hey, baby! Welcome home!” Kuroo greeted the moment Daichi crossed the threshold into the apartment. It used to be Daichi’s favorite thing, that wide, Cheshire grin split his handsome face in two, his golden eyes bright and alive. He didn’t even have the time to take off his shoes or set down his bag before he felt those long, toned arms around him, engulfing him in a hug. 

_ He’ll feel how fat you’ve gotten.  _

The voice in his head wasn’t new, the one that scrutinized and criticized, tearing him apart. In fact, he’d quickly become a familiar friend, someone he could rely on to always be there. Sure, he was a negative presence, but even the company of demons made for good conversation. 

_ Get yourself out of his touch unless you’re ready for him to see you naked. Imagine the disgusted look on his face. _

“How was your day?” his husband inquired, pulling away, only looking mildly hurt at the fact that Daichi had only reciprocated the touch with a half-hearted pat instead of the full-out bear hug he would have done months ago. Most days, Kuroo reminded Daichi of a cat; sleek, long, and lazy. He was beautiful. But on days like today, he acted like a lost puppy, a trait he used to find incredibly endearing. 

“It was really long,” he answered honestly, bending down to finally remove his polished black Oxfords. It was almost 9 p.m., and in a few short hours, he would have to be back up and at it again. 

“I’m sorry, babe.” And to his credit, he did sound genuinely empathetic, and that made Daichi feel worse. 

“It’s alright,” the shorter husband insisted, gently touching his spouse’s broad shoulder as he left the genkan and made his way toward their bedroom, wanting to change into comfier clothes. He felt like his slacks and button-down were just too tight. Did he need to buy new clothes? 

Usually, the smell of the garlic pasta wafting through the house would make him excited, knowing full well that his husband had so thoughtfully prepared one of his favorite meals. But now, the idea of eating something carb-heavy was discouraging. As if he needed to put on any more weight. One glance at Kuroo told him that his husband wasn’t feeling the brunt of their rapid approach to thirty. His metabolism would never slow down.

“Getting into some sweats?” his husband asked, stopping the hall, not following Daichi as he approached their bedroom door. Tetsu was more sensitive than he let on and seemed to detect that his spouse needed just a little space.

The shorter man paused, looking over his shoulder, trying to give his partner a reassuring smile. “Yeah, give me just a moment.” 

He disappeared into their room and closed the door, taking a moment to breathe as he leaned up against it. He needed to change clothes, and fast, before Tetsu noticed how poorly his suit fit. Though he had been lying to himself when he thought that Kuroo hadn’t taken note of his additional weight gain over the past six months. It wasn’t intentional. It was simply brought on by sitting too much at work, eating fast food and high-carb desk meals just to get by, coming home and feeling too drained and spent to go down to the gym located in their apartment complex. And without Tetsu home, he lost track of days, of when he ate, what he ate. Suga was also quite notorious for making sweets and dropping them by. Comfort food was Daichi’s middle name, a coping mechanism for his loneliness and stress. It was always his favorite thing to turn when times got a little dark, a love language his partner and friends read loud and clear.

The last several times Kuroo had come home, Daichi had made it a point to never be naked in the same room as his husband, opting to change clothes in their ensuite bathroom. It was easier, just avoiding the conversation. Because if they talked about his weight gain, they would also have to talk about how bad work had become and the awful shit his boss said about him behind his back and the crippling loneliness and anxiety he felt like a constant weight on his shoulders. There was so much he wasn’t willing to discuss, and if he could just continue to hide it, maybe he could buy the time he needed to fix it all himself.

There were days that reality told him that he had just put on a little belly fat, no biggie. A lot of office workers did, as did men in their late twenties and early thirties as their metabolisms slowed down. And it wasn’t as though he never exercised. He still lifted and tried to do squats and stuff when he had the motivation, but long gone were the washboard abs Kuroo used to so passionately touch and swoon over. But on the worst of days, Daichi saw himself as disgusting, worthless, unlovable. The very idea of Kuroo touching his body when it looked like this made him sick to his stomach. Would his husband even get hard, or feel aroused by what he looked like now?

He thought about this as he undressed, peeling out of his suit and sliding on black joggers and an oversized hoodie.  _ Oversized for how much longer?  _ The voice in his brain reminded him, causing hot tears to prick in the corner of his eyes. 

Sex used to be such a cornerstone of their relationship. They had fallen in love in high school, meeting across the net at a volleyball tournament as first years, and moving mountains all throughout their teens to make the distance a non-factor. They were each other’s firsts for everything: first kiss, first love, first time experiencing sex in every and all forms. They bumbled through it all, making it up as they went, laughing and loving each other regardless. 

Even as they got to college, they continued to explore, finding out what they liked and didn’t like, learning all about the other person. Never did they feel shy about taking turns and switching, just going with the flow. What did the other need that day? Did they need taken care of, or taken apart? Did they need to be in charge, or did they need to be bossed around a little? Communication was easy with Kuroo, the taller man never shying from what he wanted, growing all the bolder with age and experience. Daichi was always a bit timider, as was his nature, but even then, he never felt ashamed to ask from Kuroo. 

When they married, it only solidified things, their relationship growing only that much stronger. Some people talked negatively, saying that it was foolish to marry their high school sweetheart their senior year of college. 

_ What if you change your mind?  _

_ What if you meet someone better?  _

_ What if you grow tired of one another?  _

They would hear none of it, however. Daichi would never change his mind, no one in the world out there was better for him, and he would rather be dead and cold and six feet in the ground than ever grow tired of Kuroo Tetsurou. And he always took solace in knowing his soulmate felt the same exact way.

But now he felt as though his body were really betraying him, making a fool of their marriage. While he was home alone, he touched himself, sure. He was still an otherwise healthy 28-year-old man, and he worshiped every nook and cranny of Kuroo, from his long, powerful legs, to his lean, cut stomach, up to his smooth, sexy shoulders and toned arms and back. Life on the road was kind to the taller man, as he often Facetimed Daichi from various hotel’s treadmills and ellipticals, chattering about this athlete or that match. According to Kuroo, the hospitality rooms at press events were well stocked and featured a variety of organic, healthy foods, geared to shaping athlete’s bodies. 

In the brief stints that Kuroo was home, Daichi desired his spouse, but the way he saw himself overshadowed that. Instead of the typical, passionate sex they used to share, he opted to turn off all of the lights, keep his shirt on, focusing on pleasing Tetsu and insisting on nothing for himself. This concerned Kuroo and that much was obvious by the comments he made.

_ ‘Baby, are you okay?’ _

_ ‘Is everything alright?’ _

_ ‘Do you want to stop?’ _

Deny, deflect, distract. Those were his key tactics in keeping Kuroo at arm’s length but appeased enough to not push further. The tall man was attentive, though he knew that Daichi valued his space and time to process things. Usually, if he insisted that he was fine and would talk about it later, Kuroo trusted him to keep his word. Internalizing was a habit brought on by the belief that his shit was his own to handle, and burdening someone else was never an option, especially his spouse. It was only a matter of time, though, before Kuroo stopped buying into his brush-offs and really forced him to communicate, but he would cross that bridge when he got there. For now, he would just keep his laundry list of excuses at the ready. 

With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, he walked past the mirror in the bedroom, the large one that hung over their dresser. However, he did not spare a glance toward it. He didn’t want to see himself - he knew what he looked like, there was no need to remind him. 

Carefully, he padded down the hallway, some of the numbness having left his extremities now that he was wearing clothes that he felt hidden beneath. It wasn’t necessarily an improvement, though, as there was a duality to it. Without the static fuzz in his body that kept him unfeeling, he was left to ruminate on the fact he was headed out to greet his husband... 

His husband who had been gone for three weeks. 

His husband who loved to dote on him and compliment him and make him smile.

His husband who was very affectionate and whose love language was ‘physical touch’. 

His husband who was probably a bit pent-up and looking forward to having sex and reconnecting. 

_ Maybe I can say I’m tired and just give him a blow job and I’ll never have to take my shirt off.  _ Logically, he knew that it would buy him tonight, but it wouldn’t buy him the whole week Kuroo was home. Normally, their clothes would be off the second that Daichi stepped into the genkan, hardly able to get the door shut before pants were around ankles. But it wasn’t really like that anymore.

“Hey, babe.” Kuroo approached him as though he was an injured deer rather than his own spouse, just Bambi standing alone in the meadow after his mom was gunned down by a hunter. 

They were standing in the middle of the living room, the kitchen just behind Kuroo, the hallway to Daichi’s back. He looked up at his husband, regarding the bedhead with dark, umber eyes. There was a palpable tension between them, even if Kuroo tried to soften it with a loving smile. “Are you hungry?”

Daichi had been home from work for fifteen minutes and hadn’t asked Kuroo one thing about his trip or his day. Instead, he got home late, and let his husband prepare a meal, and was acting like he didn’t give a shit about the other at all.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at his feet, curling his toes anxiously. He was starving, absolutely ravenous. The only thing he had eaten today was a to-go cup of instant ramen and three Oreos he had found in a Ziploc stuffed in his desk from last week. “Uh, not really.”

Oh,” he said, drawing back, pulling away, making the physical distance just as obvious as their emotional one. The disappointment in Kuroo’s voice was heavy, full enough to pressurize the whole room, but Daichi knew him well enough to recognize the false cheer he used to mask it. “That’s okay. I can pack some up for you to take tomorrow for lunch?”

By the time Daichi glanced back up again, Kuroo was walking toward the kitchen, turning off the dials on the stove with a sort of unnatural precision. Tension was evident in every ripple of his muscle as he began to scoop the noodles into a Tupperware container with zero regards for how hot the meal still was.

“Are  _ you _ hungry?” Daichi asked, suddenly finding his voice. Guilt was gnawing at his stomach more than the hunger was, and the very idea of eating in front of Tetsu right now was filling him with so much anxiety, but he could push it down, right? For just one meal?

_ What about tomorrow’s meals?  _ The voice asked, hissing with contempt. 

_ Go away!  _ Daichi commanded, doing his best to focus on his spouse and not on that horrific little nagging in his brain. 

Kuroo paused his movements, as though frozen. He didn’t even turn his head, only glanced out the corner of his eye. He seemed skeptical, hesitant, as though he were just one push from sending this whole thing tumbling over. “I could eat,” he answered finally.

“Then come on,” the shorter husband smiled, fingers absentmindedly curling around the hem of his sweatshirt. He was doing his best to find a smile.  _ For Kuroo _ , he told himself.  _ He deserves it.  _ “You worked really hard.”

A relieved-sounding sigh left the black-haired man’s lungs as he lowered the pan back to the stove. It was probably a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Are you sure?” he questioned, still suspicious. To be fair, he had every reason to be. Daichi had just treated him like they were playing one fucked-up game of Minesweeper. “Is everything alright?" he added, reaching into the cabinet to fetch two plates.

“Yeah.” He smiled, the gesture laden with falsehoods. “Everything is fine.”

*

Once he actually took a moment to chat and catch up with his husband, some of the stress he had carried in the door with him began to melt away. It was like that obnoxious, hyena-like laugh had the ability to tear the wall of his anxiety apart, brick by brick. Before they were lovers, they were friends at their core. They had a sort of weird understanding, a connection at the base of their being. 

Daichi didn’t give Kuroo the opportunity to ask about how he had been. Instead, he insisted on hearing all about his travels, the teams he covered and the athletes he met. With starry eyes, he gushed about meeting two players from the national volleyball team who were gearing up for the upcoming Olympics. Ushijima Wakatoshi and Sakusa Kiyoomi were engaged and they made quite a pair. Daichi knew them quite well and really enjoyed watching both the Adlers and Black Jackals on television. The announcement shook the sports world in Japan as they were two of the most renowned athletes to be openly gay or queer. However, due to personal reasons, they had denied further interviews and refused to answer any questions regarding their relationship when pestered by the media.

“They said they would consider me for an exclusive interview, baby!” Kuroo explained, sounding so proud. “They knew that I am also gay and married, and they said they trusted me to ask the right questions and handle their relationship appropriately, instead of pushing stereotypes on them.”

“Have media outlets been rude in the past?” 

In response, the taller husband let out a puff of air. “Oh god, yes. Being a gay athlete at the national level like that must be so nerve-wracking. The shit people say on Twitter and in the comment sections of articles. And I’m not even talking about articles discussing their relationship.” He looked pissed and sickened at the same time. “People get on the posts that simply just have like, fucking, box scores on there and just act like dicks. Just tearing them apart, making stupid ass comments. Ugh, it’s awful.” He grimaced, forking hovering over his food, golden eyes like molten lava. “I just want to change that.”

If anyone could make a dent, it was Kuroo. He had such a heart for his work and really cared about every life he touched. Some wouldn’t regard a free-lance sports analyst as a ‘life changing’ career. Not in an obvious sense, like a nurse or a teacher or a firefighter. It wasn’t a textbook ‘noble’ profession. But the way Kuroo did it, it certainly was. Everything he touched turned to gold; it was ingrained in his very soul.

“You will,” the brunette reassured, reaching across the table to place his hand over his husband’s, the first touch he had initiated since sitting down for dinner. “You’re going to do a lot of really amazing things.” This seemed to really perk Kuroo up, and he leaned over to steal a kiss.

The connection was warm, his husband’s lips sweet from the glass of red wine he had poured to go with dinner. Sighing, Daichi leaned into the touch, Kuroo’s hand finding its way to his cheek, anchoring them in place. For the briefest moment, the shorter brunette allowed himself to forget all the insecurity and doubt harboring in his heart, creating a stronghold. With the careful slotting of lips and the gentle curl of his fingers at the nape of Daichi’s neck, all of those things seemed to fade away, the concrete barriers around his heart turning to shifting sand. 

_ If he keeps kissing you, he will expect you to go to bed with him. _

As though electrocuted, Daichi pulled away, leaving Kuroo chasing his kiss; lost. His golden eyes blinked open, seemingly stunned, though it quickly gave way to something akin to sadness, clearly hurt by his spouse’s sudden departure. The broader man sat up straight and stared back in return. 

When did this all become so fucking hard? Why couldn’t he just kiss his husband like a normal fucking person?

“I’ll clean up,” he announced suddenly, standing up so fast that he caused a rush of black to cloud his vision, though he tried to ignore it. Thankfully, Kuroo had been so distracted talking about his trip that he hadn’t really noticed Daichi just pushing the food around on the plate, taking small bites here or there, just enough to give the illusion that he was actually eating his meal. Because he had been avoiding his food, his blood sugar was a bit low. This, coupled with the swift movement when he stood, brought on the unexpected head rush. 

However, he couldn’t power through it as well as he intended, and the uneasy feeling caught up with him, the nearly full plate of pasta slipping from his hand, sending it hurtling back toward their solid oak table. The porcelain connected with the tabletop with a resounding clatter, the noise almost unheard through the overwhelming ‘whooshing’ pounding in his ears.

“Daichi!” It was Kuroo’s turn to stand up, reaching out to catch his spouse, clutching onto his bicep. He hardly registered that his name was being called, frantically grabbing onto the lip of the table to keep himself upright. “Daichi, are you alright?”

Kuroo’s voice was right in his ear, and as his vision slowly returned, he spotted his spouse just to the left of him, coming back into the view once again. The tall man was crouched down, looking up at Daichi with a sort of worry that felt too daunting, too perceptive. In his quest to keep his burdens off of Kuroo’s plate, he still managed to fuck it up.  _ Just like everything else.  _

“Baby,” he could hardly register what Kuroo was saying to him, his voice deep and laden with genuine concern. “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” 

No, no, no. He couldn’t do this. No way. It was his first night home, and he needed to keep Kuroo happy. He absolutely deserved that. 

“It’s nothing.” There would be no Oscar awards handed out for that performance as Daichi pinched his eyes shut and brought his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose. He willed himself to stay upright, to regain his senses, to brush this off. “I’m just a little stressed.”

An unconvinced hum left Kuroo’s throat. “Are you sure?” 

Willing his eyes open, he managed a weak smile, just a little grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “Of course.” 

He let go of the table then and returned to busying himself, grabbing the plate that now sported a hefty, noteworthy chip in the side. He would need to get a lot of paper towels and drag the trash can over to clean up the noodles that had spilled everywhere. 

“Here, let me help.” 

Daichi shook his head and touched his husband on the shoulder. “Nonsense, Tetsu. Just finish your food and I’ll get this cleaned up.”

“Positive?” The apprehension present in his question was too obvious. “I can help you, it’s no big deal.”

Once again, the smile he gave in return was the one he usually reserved for tedious business meetings, the ones that bogged him down and left him feeling drained, as though he was a lesion needing to be lanced. Never before in his life could he recall offering his lover such a ruse so many times in a row, but it couldn’t be helped. “I’ve got it, don’t worry about it.” With a gentle kiss to Tetsu’s lips, along with a gentle yet firm weight on his shoulder, he pushed his lover back into his seat. “Just enjoy the rest of your food and I’ll start on the kitchen.”

*

That night, Daichi found himself wrapped up in the sheets, his husband fast asleep next to him, tired and sated from his orgasm. Their legs were crossed under the blanket, Kuroo sleeping on his back, one hand resting on the pillow above his head, the other splayed across his toned stomach. Daichi’s plan had worked - give his husband a blow job, keep the lights low and his shirt on, and make up an excuse about a headache and an early morning meeting.

Granted, it wasn’t necessarily a lie, he didn’t actually feel the best and he _ did _ need to be at the office early. But it sucked because, in all actuality, he truly wanted to have sex with his husband. Topping, bottoming, it didn’t matter. More than words could ever express, he missed being connected with the love of his life. Thankfully, Kuroo was never a pusher. Consent was never an automatic given, even in marriage. If one partner wasn’t interested, it wouldn’t happen. That was the hardest part about all of this - Daichi wanted to fuck his husband, be fucked. He wanted to be taken care of and doted on and given that same soul-rendering body worship he had received most of their relationship. 

But what if you didn’t view your body as something worth worshiping? It would be different if he had a grip on  _ something _ , either his body or his mind. But with the war occurring constantly between the two of them, he could hardly bring himself to get out of bed in the morning, let alone exert the energy enthusiasm that was required for sex and affection. Fuck, even to carry on a heartfelt conversation with his spouse. What little energy he started the day with went directly into his job, keeping up appearances, hustling through the surmounting workload, never quite catching up. 

Sex used to be a respite, a reprieve, a place he could bring himself to feel something, feel connected and loved. Kuroo would take care of him, always. He was such a giver, so very intuitive and smart. Analytical and sharp by nature, he was quick to nurture and service. 

Still, Daichi didn’t feel worthy. He didn’t deserve it. He was chunky and soft and lazy. This wasn’t the man Kuroo married, this wasn’t who he promised forever to. This was just an empty husk; sullen leftovers. 

The red numbers at the corner of the clock glared a harsh and foreboding 2:04 a.m., reminding Daichi that his alarm was only a mere four hours from sounding. Soon, he would have to get up, face the day, get on that conference call, and try to unbury himself from the mound of paperwork that was beginning to feel like his grave.

_ For Tetsurou _ , he reminded himself as he rolled over to look at his spouse, relying on his newly acquired mantra to help make everything feel just a bit better. The sharp lines of his face looked so soft in his slumber, the blue city lights filtering through the curtains in their shared bedroom. How Kuroo acquired his bedhead was no mystery - he would toss and turn throughout the night.

Daichi smiled at the sight, making it the last thing he saw before he finally closed his eyes, finally willing himself to sleep.  _ Tomorrow will be better _ , he promised, though the voice in his head said something else:  _ tomorrow will be exactly the same.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shoutout to my dear friend, MadamPresident2032 for beta-editing this as well as being a sounding board. Your love and support means so much. 
> 
> And to the rest of my readers, I hope to bring you updates very soon. Thank you for sharing in such a personal story with me. Leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts!!
> 
> To read another fic about Daichi facing body image issues, check out my friend stephbethallen's wonderful work [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138976). It is a beautiful canon compliant tale that definitely inspired me to face my own issues regarding body image thru our perfect, sweet Daichi. Please read it!!


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